


Rise to Find the Sun

by AgarthanGuide, crzy_wrtr10



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Dreams and Nightmares, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fever Dreams, Fluff, Friends as Family, Gen, Gift Fic, Hurt/Comfort, OT3 - Friendship, Papa Bear Treville, Platonic Cuddling, Porthos can sleep through anything, Sickfic, Thank you fic, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, more or less
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-15
Updated: 2015-01-15
Packaged: 2018-03-07 16:16:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3177004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgarthanGuide/pseuds/AgarthanGuide, https://archiveofourown.org/users/crzy_wrtr10/pseuds/crzy_wrtr10
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>The crackle of the fire in the hearth was the only sound in the room. </i>
</p><p> </p><p>  <i>Well, Treville mused ildly, maybe not entirely. He’d tuned out the congested huffs that was Aramis and Athos’s combined breathing from the one bed. All three of his Inseparables were asleep, worn out to their very bones with sickness and exhaustion. </i></p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Note: This is a sequel to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/2209746">Your Sweet and Weary Head</a>. It's not totally necessary to read that one, but things will make a lot more sense if you do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rise to Find the Sun

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Your Sweet and Weary Head](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2209746) by [crzy_wrtr10](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crzy_wrtr10/pseuds/crzy_wrtr10). 



> We are quite possibly the worst pair of influences on each other. Ever. 
> 
> Hey, look, it's 1630's gen fic! 
> 
> We wanted to say thank you. This fandom is awesome, and I'm pretty sure we're all glad the boys are back in town. Enjoy the fic and the art. 
> 
> And seriously. Thank you. Each and every one of you. Ya'll are awesome.
> 
> Title comes from Enya's "May It Be" (in keeping with the accidental LotR soundtrack provided titles)

[ ](http://i.imgur.com/zXCKX8r.jpg)

(Click to See Full Size)

 

The crackle of the fire in the hearth was the only sound in the room.

Well, Treville mused ildly, maybe not entirely. He’d tuned out the congested huffs that was Aramis and Athos’s combined breathing from the one bed. All three of his Inseparables were asleep, worn out to their very bones with sickness and exhaustion.

A blanket rustled.

Treville looked first at Porthos, though the only moving he’d done since climbing into bed had been to sprawl out on his back, legs askew in the covers, and one foot hanging over the edge. Treville had put it back on the straw mattress once or twice, before deciding just to leave it where the younger man wanted it.

More rustling, followed by a hitch in breathing.

He stood, and walked softly to ensure his boots made little noise on the hardwood. Aramis was still asleep with his head on Athos’s chest, mouth open and drooling slightly onto the other man’s shirt. If Treville craned his neck a little bit, he could see where the bruising on Aramis’s side – the left one, the one he tried to hide against the bedding – had begun to blossom.

A leg moved, and at first Treville didn’t know who it belonged to. It moved again; there was a hitch in someone’s breathing, and he looked up in time to watch Athos blink himself awake, choking on a cough.

“Athos?” Treville asked quietly.

Athos shuddered, his glassy blue eyes disappearing behind owlish blinks. “Thom?” He dipped his chin to look confusedly at the top of Aramis’s unruly curls and asked, again, “Thom?”

Treville knelt by the bed and wrapped his warm fingers around the cool ones of Athos’s free hand. “Athos? Athos, look at me.”

It seemed to take monumental effort, but Athos finally rolled his head on the pillow to look at Treville. Or, more accurately, look right through him, still caught in the grip of whatever was playing out in his mind.

“Do you know who I am?” Treville kept his voice soft, not wanting to startle Athos and have him wake Aramis by accident.

Aramis, no matter what kind of state he was in when he went to sleep, still had a habit of coming up swinging if he wasn’t prodded carefully awake from a relatively safe distance.

The confusion written across Athos’s normally blank features was heartbreaking. He tightened his arm around Aramis’s head. “Thom?”

“No, Athos,” Treville said gently. “No, that’s Aramis. You know Aramis.”

Athos’s chest hitched, and he squeezed his eyes tightly shut. They were a little clearer when he opened them again. “Cap’n?”

“That’s me.” He smiled slightly. He didn’t need to lay the backs of his fingers across Athos’s brow to know his fever had spiked again.

“’Mis?”

Treville gestured to the unruly head of hair just under Athos’s chin. “Right there. ‘Bout as sick as you are, too.”

Athos tugged his hand from Treville’s lax grip and flopped it in the general direction of his chest. It landed on Aramis’s shoulder, and he then tried to burrow his head further into the pillow with a muttered, “Cold.”

 _That_ he could easily deal with. On the chest at the foot of the bed was a spare blanket, and he got creakily to his feet to retrieve it. He shook it out, and draped it over the pair of them. He wasn’t entirely sure what to do when he reached Aramis’s head, but Athos solved that for him, left hand awkwardly tucking the edge of the blanket up around the younger man’s chin.

“Go back to sleep, Athos,” Treville murmured, pushing Athos’s sweaty hair off his forehead.

He let his eyes slide shut only to open them again. “’Thos?”

“Sound asleep in his own bed. Like you should be.” He kept his tone gentle, and Athos must have found it acceptable because he soon drifted off again. Treville waited a few moments before retreating to his chair once again.

Quiet settled heavily over the room again. Treville must have dozed off at some point, because he jerked awake. The fire had burned low, and it was growing dark outside the windows.

He scrubbed a hand over his face, wondering what woke him. A glance at Porthos told him the man hadn’t moved save for the occasional stretch – and his foot was no longer hanging off the bed – and Treville heaved himself to his feet with a sigh to put more wood on the fire. It wouldn’t do for any of them to catch a chill.

A light rain pattered against the windowpanes, and he froze, the hair on the back of his neck prickling. Deciding it was nothing of importance, he stoked the fire and returned to his chair.

Something – or someone – burbled. It was an odd sort of noise, one that had Treville looking around the room for the source.

“ _No,_ ” someone murmured.

 _Porthos had mentioned nightmares,_ Treville thought, this time bringing his chair with him toward the bed Athos and Aramis shared.

“ _Por favor, no_ ,” Aramis muttered, head tossing back and forth on Athos’s chest. He brought a hand up, and batted weakly at both the blanket and the hold Athos had him.

“Aramis,” Treville said. “Aramis, wake up.” He was reluctant to touch him; Etienne had done it once, when Aramis had fallen asleep at the mess table in the Garrison, and Aramis had gifted him three broken fingers and a black eye for his trouble.

Aramis jerked in Athos’s hold, breath hitching painfully in his chest. He choked on it, shoulders twitching, and finally horked out a combination cough and some inarticulate noise Treville didn’t ever want to hear from one of his non-bleeding Musketeers again.

“Aramis! Wake up, soldier!” He didn’t want to raise his voice for fear of waking either Porthos or Athos – though he had to admit he was a little concerned Athos’s eyes were still shut.

“ _Nnngh!_ ” Aramis jerked upright, pressing his hand down hard against Athos’s chest. The other man came awake with a flail of his own, shoving at what had him pinned and forcing a disoriented Aramis back down against him with a whump.

A small-scale scuffle ensued, in which, at the end, Aramis had wedged himself into the corner where the bed met the wall and Athos was blinking blearily from his position on his rump on the floor. Treville glanced over his shoulder to see what Porthos had made of the whole situation and found the man still sound asleep.

“Unbelievable,” he muttered.

Athos tossed his head and looped an arm over the edge of the bed. “Wha’?”

Aramis pressed his back against the wall and rattled off something in Spanish. Athos stared at him, and Treville inched around so he could see his expression, too. He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing, as Athos’s features had twisted into the most comical set of confusion he’d seen since the man joined the regiment.

Evidently finished with whatever he’d said, Aramis crouched, elbows on his thighs, and looked expectantly at Athos.

“Shit!” A cough caught him mid-word and the whole thing came out more bark than anything else.

“Huh?” He ran his fingers through his hair, tugging painfully at the strands. “Que – que – Donde?”

Athos’s forehead scrunched. He wobbled a little more upright; Treville took the hint and helped him first to his feet, then back in the bed. Slowly, as though he weren’t entirely sure of the words or their meaning, he spoke to Aramis in Spanish.

“ _But where did we hide the mongoose?_ ” Aramis asked, still in his mother’s tongue.

Treville looked at Athos, who appeared as lost as he did, and the pair of them shrugged, still not understanding a word of it.

“Dorme,” Athos said, gesturing to himself. “Dorme.”

Whatever the hell that was seemed to permeate Aramis’s mind – wherever it had wandered off to – and he cocked his head to the side, eyes clearing a little. “’Thos?”

Athos flopped bonelessly back against his pillows, and he said something that, once upon a time, might have been, “Yes, you idiot, now get over here.”

Aramis hesitated; Treville found himself holding his breath and forced himself to let it go.

“’Mis,” Athos sighed, holding up a hand trembling with fatigue.

With a shiver, Aramis tucked himself back along Athos’s side. Treville, moving slowly so as not to startle them, covered them both with their multitude of blankets again. Once he was sure they were out cold again, he retreated to his chair and resolutely didn’t drop his head in his hands.

 

Treville oversaw at least four more similar episodes during the night. Porthos slept through all of them.

 

He woke to the shuffling of bare feet across dusty floorboards, and sat up, wide awake, to see Porthos standing by the side of the other bed and staring down at Athos and Aramis. His features were soft in the early morning light, a small smile reserved for a select few twisting his mouth.

“See?” Porthos whispered excitedly, clearly not wanting to wake them. “I told you. Put ‘em together and they sleep like babies.”

Treville dropped his head and choked on the laugh fighting to get free.

**Author's Note:**

> I can be found over in this [corner of the internet](http://awonderingsagittarius.tumblr.com), and JakartaInn [is over here](http://agarthanguide.tumblr.com/). Come say hi.


End file.
